Control
by temporalgambit
Summary: Choromatsu swears he's fine, until he's not.
Choromatsu has not been sleeping well.

In fact, he feels like he hasn't been doing _anything_ well, lately. He feels…out of sorts. He's always been the most high-strung of his brothers, he knows—they take every chance they get to remind him to _chill out_ , to _calm down_. And he tries, usually, because he knows he can work himself up about things that don't really matter in the long run. His idiot brothers are wrong about a lot of things for sure, but sometimes their advice is decent. Sometimes he needs to slow down and relax.

This, however, is different.

He can't—he doesn't know _how_ to calm down. He remembers how he _used_ to. Deep breathing. Close your eyes, count to ten, picture a beach, listen to the waves, breathe until your mind is clear and your heart stops pounding. But it isn't _working_ anymore.

He's tense nearly all the time. Little things are no longer little things, they're _big_ things. Everything stresses him out. He's worried, on edge, exhausted, and he has no idea what to _do_ about it.

He wonders if there's something wrong with him. If maybe he's…broken, somehow. If something's gone wrong with the wiring of his brain and he's going to be like this forever.

And that's just another layer upon the layers and layers of stress he's been accumulating for weeks. He doesn't—he thinks about their futures. What happens if mom and dad get tired of them? What happens if they grow all the way up and end up with no job skills and can't ever support themselves? It's bound to happen eventually. What happens when mom and dad…? Because all parents do. How are they going to deal with _that?_

In the meantime, what happens if the house burns down? What happens if Osomatsu goes out drinking and doesn't come back? What happens if Juushimatsu drowns for real, like he almost did until that girl he fell in love with saved him? What happens if Ichimatsu gets mugged in an alleyway and nobody finds him? What happens if Karamatsu gets himself in trouble with some _real_ tough guys? What happens if Todomatsu gets really sick and there's nothing they can do? What happens if—what happens if—what happens if—?

He's breathing hard, gripping the edges of the book he'd been pretending to read for the last half-hour. He's on the verge of—something. Oh god. He can't—

Someone's calling his name.

"—matsu? Choromatsu?" It's Karamatsu, waving a hand in front of his face. "Dinner's ready, come on."

He forcibly _shoves_ those thoughts to the back of his brain. _Leave me alone_ , he insists. He should have better control over himself. He _does_ have better control over himself. He can't let this…whatever…consume his life. Anything could happen, but his fears are mostly unfounded. He knows this. He can talk himself out of this. He's a rational human being. Reason over feeling has to win out this time.

So he breathes in, out, marks his page (just for show), and stands up, following Karamatsu to the dinner table. If the second brother notices anything strange in his behavior, he doesn't mention it.

Choromatsu is eternally grateful for this.

He eats with the others, listening in on their idle chatter—even contributes to the conversation a few times himself, to make sure everything seems normal. Because everything is normal. Everything is fine.

He swears.

They travel to the bathhouse in a group, and the warm water and steam is enough to calm his frazzled nerves a little. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, his back, places he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying it. It's good, he thinks, he can handle this. Bit by bit, he can take care of it in pieces—this fear is irrational, that fear is irrational—until he's back to his normal self again. He'll still be high-strung, but he won't have to worry about losing control. All of his fears are about things he cannot control, and this recent problem of his is about not being in control. He just needs to regain some of that control to feel like himself again. And he can do that. It will just take time.

And he has time.

He notices his hands are trembling a little as he dresses for bed, and quickly turns before anybody else can see. The last thing he wants is to have someone else concerned over him—especially regarding something so silly. He can take care of this himself.

He helps roll out the futon, arranging pillows and laying out the duvet. Once Juushimatsu declares the bed fit for sleeping, he climbs in and prepares himself for another long night.

The light clicks off. The thoughts flood in.

What if…what if…what if… He squeezes his eyes shut tight. No. Not tonight. He's gonna…he's gonna think of nothing. Mind blank. Static noise so loud it drowns out everything else. He's exhausted, he just wants to sleep, he just wants this to go away, he just wants…someone to notice? No. No, he doesn't want that. This is horrible, it's embarrassing, and none of his brothers would understand. It would become a joke. He doesn't want to be a joke.

Static. Focus on the static.

It takes him two hours to fall asleep.

* * *

It doesn't last long.

He awakens from a dream about—about—he doesn't even remember, but _oh god_ it was horrible and he can't—he can't _breathe_ , oh my god he has to get _out_ of here, he can't— and he scrambles, only dimly aware of kicking someone in the process, from the futon, slamming open the bedroom door and running, running, running, until he finds himself in the bathroom—how had he even gotten here? where he collapses on the floor.

 _I'm dying_ , something is squeezing his heart, his lungs, he's shaking and sweating and sick to his stomach and he can't—fucking— _breathe_. He's trying to breathe, but as soon as he gets a tiny puff of air in he's already breathing out, there's not enough oxygen, he's going to suffocate like this and nobody will know—

And then, too soon, there's a figure at the bathroom door. "Choromatsu, what's…?" It's Osomatsu.

 _Oh no, oh no_ , he doesn't want to be seen like this—but why? It's not like he's gonna be around to be embarrassed by it, anyway—his vision is starting to go hazy around the edges. He tries to focus on what his brother is saying, anything to distract from the feeling that is—

"Oh gosh, you're—" Osomatsu's voice rises slightly in pitch, but he checks himself quickly. "Okay, okay, hang on, it's okay."

But _it's not okay_ , how the hell would Osomatsu know if it was okay? But his brother is crouching beside him, and he's somehow glad to not be alone.

"I want you to listen to me, alright?" Osomatsu speaks slowly, calmly. "It will be easier to breathe if you sit up. Can you do that?"

Choromatsu shakes his head, a quick little motion he's amazed Osomatsu is even able to catch.

"Okay, do you want me to _help_ you sit up?"

He pauses, can't stop hyperventilating, knows he's not thinking clearly. If—if there's even a chance that—he nods.

"Alright, I'm going to touch your shoulders and help you up. You can lean against the wall." And he does just as he said, with slow, careful movements so unlike his usual energy. "You're doing fine—okay, there you go." He rubs gently up and down his brother's arms, "Let's try to get you some air, okay? Can you match my breathing?"

Choromatsu doesn't know. _He doesn't know._ But he nods, because Osomatsu is the only lifeline he has right now.

His brother takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, then lets it out slowly. Choromatsu tries to copy him, but chokes, panics, and resumes his frantic panting. "Hey, it's okay. Let's try again." He breathes in, holds, and breathes out. Choromatsu manages slightly better this time—he can't hold it, and his breath comes in shaky puffs, but he matches the pace. "Good, you're doing good, Choromatsu," Osomatsu praises, then repeats the action again. And again. And again.

Choromatsu has no idea how long they sit there, breathing in synch, until he's suddenly aware he isn't dying anymore. He's shaking, nauseous, and drenched in sweat, but he's _breathing_. Osomatsu seems to come to this realization at the same time he does.

"Feel any better?" he asks, small smile on his face.

He—he _does_ , but there's still this…and then he realizes his eyes are filling with hot tears. _Oh god._

There's obviously no hiding _this_ from the eldest brother, who simply opens his arms in an invitation for a hug.

And damned if Choromatsu doesn't _dive_ into his brother's embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck as he sobs, "O-so-mat-su-nii-san…"

Osomatsu shushes him, pets his hair, rubs his back. "Hey, it's okay, Choromatsu, you're okay. You did so good, okay? I'm so proud of you."

That only makes him cry _harder_ , of course.

Osomatsu's hand rubs firmly up and down his spine. "You were really brave, you know that?" he gives him a gentle squeeze before asking, softly, "Was this the first time?"

Choromatsu nods.

A sigh. "Thank god you stepped on me when you went bolting out the door. Nobody should ever have to do this alone." He pauses. "You understand what I mean by that, right?"

It takes a moment for the implication to sink in, before he nods again.

"If you need help, you can ask for it. Karamatsu's even better at this than I am, since he gets them too. He's the reason I knew. It's nothing to be ashamed of." He strokes Choromatsu's hair softly, until the heaving sobs turn into hiccups, and the hiccups turn into shuddery breaths, and the shuddery breaths even out. Only then does he pull away, offering his biggest smile to his younger brother. "You did good. Super good. Starting to feel better?"

"…Tired…" Choromatsu mumbles, letting his head drop forward onto Osomatsu's shoulder again.

"No kidding. Let's get you back to bed, okay? Blow your nose and wash your face first, though—you'll feel loads better, trust me." He offers him a hand up, and only then does Choromatsu notice the large damp patch of snot and tears he'd managed to leave on his brother's pajama shirt.

"I got you all…" he gestures once he's on his feet.

Osomatsu looks down. "What, this? I've had way worse. I'll change when we get back, though, if it'll make you feel better."

Choromatsu nods, blows his nose on a wad of toilet paper and splashes cool water on his face until his eyes are less puffy and cheeks are less blotchy.

Osomatsu leads him back to the room, where Choromatsu allows him to make a bit of a fuss over tucking him in before he goes to swap his soiled shirt for a clean one. As Osomatsu slips into bed beside him, he plants an affectionate kiss on his forehead. "You did good, Choromatsu," he affirms once more, "but just know you don't have to do it alone."

Choromatsu sleeps through the rest of the night undisturbed.

(Whether that has anything to do with the protective arm thrown across his chest is really anybody's guess.)


End file.
